OK - I don't give in easily, but here I am, on Day 7, when really I could have done with being home, still here on The Bed, in the R-W-A-V.
My consultant has just advised me that I am on the emergency list for surgery today, as they now know the reason for my continued vomiting for the last 7 days.
According to the X-Rays, I have a naughty bit of intestine that wants to get in on the action, and to achieve this, has pushed its way through the little hole made to accommodate my new route.
Consequently, it has blocked up the whole bloody show, and won't get better without another go at the old keyhole surgery.
I have an internal hernia. It hurts like buggery. I am still vomiting. But there is a solution on the horizon.
Waiting patiently for the trolley to take me down on another trip to oblivion-land.
It is now 3pm, and finally, my presence is required elsewhere.
In goes the needle, the eyes wide open, the inability to maintain any kind of communication, and hey presto, I am awake in the recovery room. Again.
Morphine has been my friend this time around. I cannot remember what guff I talked about, but through the night I have been visited, prodded, poked, and stabbed with needles. I don't care. I have not been sick at all.
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